Filia Maris
by DarkLadyAthara
Summary: Maris has a past full of secrets, pain, betrayal and loss that she does not like to think of often. Thoughts of a Lady Captain of mysterious origins before, during and after the events surrounding the Fourth Brethren Court and Release of the Goddess Calypso; her thoughts, fears, regrets and feelings about the three most important people in her life. Jack/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I, sadly, do not own Pirates or Captain Jack or any of the marvelousness that is this series. If I did, I would not currently be worrying about student loans… Only Maris belongs to me.**

**This has been floating around in my head since I saw At World's End for the second time in theatres. As such, this story draws only from the movies, and none of the games, books or other supplementary materials beyond small things like the odd ship name.**

******PS, bonus points and a virtual cookie if you can guess the meaning of the title!**

**I hope you enjoy! R&R!**

**Chapter 1**

It was with a none too gracious thud that the body was laid out on the waiting table. Maris watched from the doorway, emotionless, as the three members of her crew made a hasty retreat from the shack that sheltered the table and, perhaps more importantly, the woman who had sent them racing off to retrieve it. Tia Dalma had been waiting impatiently for them to arrive, and had leveled Maris with a sharp glare when she entered the shack far later than she had been instructed. The mystic had rather irritably waved off the men, and presumably Maris as well, though the female captain had ignored her. She stood by, watching in silence as Tia circled the dead pirate, her long fingers hovering mere inches above him, muttering all the while.

After a few long moments she huffed in frustration, her eyes glinting in the low light.

It was obviously not going well.

Not that Maris knew why. Tia had once offered to teach her the ways of voodoo, mysticism and whatever other fantastic things the woman was capable of. Maris had invariably declined. She knew her destiny was to roam the seas. Tia had been furious and, beneath that, disappointed, and had never quite dropped the issue. But Maris had never regretted the decision. The sea was in her blood. Captain Teague had once laughed that she had more salt water in her blood than any scurvy sea-dog he'd ever met. Then, she had often made him laugh with her tenacity, her spirit, scrappy nature and her love of the sea. Why else would he have kept on the scrawny stow-away, or taken her under his wing. Admittedly, her instinctual understanding of the sea had undoubtedly helped, but she liked to think she had earned his respect on her own merits.

Tia turned from the body, deep in thought. Maris, her arms still crossed in front of her, shifted slightly. It was enough to draw the voodoo queen's gaze.

"You 'ave brought 'im to me too late." Maris could only shrug.

"It's not as if de Isla de Muerta was easy to find." Tia scoffed. "Perhaps if you 'ad given me a better bearing—" Tia scoffed again.

"If you 'ad agreed to my lessons, you could have found it yourself. Den it would not be too late." Tia's accent thickened with her annoyance. Apparently the emotion was contagious, as Maris found her own feelings of annoyance grow.

"So it was a waste, den." Tia shot the Captain a patronizing look, a sly pride surfacing under the fading irritation.

"No. 'E is only dead. It will just take a little more—work." Maris couldn't keep the skeptical look off her face. Not that she didn't believe it, mind. She knew Tia Dalma was immensely powerful. It was Tia's hesitation to elaborate that she was reacting to. Tia rarely revealed her secrets, but she seemed to let a lot more slip when she was alone with Maris. It was really one of the few hints of connection and even affection that Maris ever noticed in the woman. This reluctance to share was unusual. Tia froze for a moment, her eyes glazing as a thought from 'beyond' obviously came to her. She swung back to face Maris, her stare once again piercing.

"'E 'ad a monkey wid 'im. Where is it?" Maris was taken aback, but she did remember a monkey.

"As soon as we made shore, 'e ran off. Why?" Tia once again looked thoughtful.

"'E could be de key."

"Key? What key?"

"To bringing 'im back," she gestured to the table. Maris found her gaze once again drawn to the dead pirate. She wasn't quite sure she wanted him to come back, to be honest. It was one more claim on her ship. Maris groaned.

"You mean you want me to go back and get de monkey? No. I won't do it." Maris vehemently shook her head at the prospect. Not only was the idea of chasing down a monkey humiliating to consider, but she could also feel a hurricane beginning to form over the seas. It was not a storm she wanted to sail through.

She had also seen one very familiar ship before her own had taken flight from that cursed place, and she dreaded confronting the man she suspected would be onboard.

Annoyance once again began to creep onto Tia's features, only to be smoothed out again as the familiar glaze returned to her eyes.

"You will not 'ave to. It is no longer on the Cursed Isle anyway. Dat place will soon be no more." Maris threw up her hands.

"Den what? What of your plans now? You need him," she pointed to the body, "you said you do." Tia waved off her questions, turning her focus once more to the dead Pirate. The mystic was once again deep in thought, drawing on her talents to read what she could of the future, by the look of it. Maris watched in astonishment as genuine joy began to suffuse the woman's familiar features.

"Tings are in motion, my sweet girl. You will not 'ave to bring the creature to me, I tink, but it will come wid another in time." Her voice began to trail off, a delicate thread of hope weaving through the whispered words she spoke mostly to herself. "Soon, I will be free." Maris was confused now. She had barely heard the words, and they worried her. She knew the voodoo queen was far more than she seemed, even to Maris, who knew Tia better than almost anyone alive. There were secrets even the Captain was not privy to. But this sounded ominous to her sailor's heart.

Tia did not say anymore, however. Instead, she maintained her vigil at the dead pirate's side. Maris straightened from where she had been leaning against the crude doorframe, slowly walking over to gaze down at the body. She knew his grizzled face, it was familiar, and not as old as she would have expected, but then again, he had been under a curse… She turned her own blue-eyed gaze to the Mystic, taking in her profile as it was silhouetted against the wash of candles behind her.

"What is going to happen? Why do you need him?"

"A new t'ret will soon sail dese waters, and de Bred'erin Court will meet again. And as one of de nine Pirate Lords 'e will be in my debt when I return 'him to dis world."

"De Court?" Maris was taken aback enough that her own long-suppressed accent began to surface more completely, colouring her words much like Tia's. "But, de Court—" in her mind, the pieces slowly fell together, revealing a terrible truth that Maris realized she had always known on some level. The sly smile returned to Tia's face, though this time there was a deep and frightening cruelty lingering below the surface. For the first time in her long life, Maris felt a twinge of fear as she watched Tia. The mystic slowly turned, her gaze meeting Maris'. It seemed as thought the woman she knew had melted away, revealing something primal, powerful…and terrible.

And then Tia was back, as though nothing had happened. Her wily, clever gaze still focused on Maris as a pleased expression flitted across her tattooed face.

"Truly, you did not believe you came of mortal blood, my sweet girl." It wasn't until that moment that Maris realized she was trembling. "Your—bond wid de sea, your long years."

"You're—you are—" Maris couldn't even get the name to pass her lips, but Tia nodded anyway, her wide smile off-putting. Maris shook her head, forcibly clearing the apprehension growing within her. She had always attributed her longevity and relative agelessness to Tia's powers… and to her father. She had always known, somehow, that he was an immortal, though she had never technically met him. Tia had always alluded as such. And she had never attributed her bond to the sea as anything more than a talent. Though as she mulled it over, feeling that hurricane forming such a long way off as she did so, she could've kicked herself for ignoring such a glaring bit of evidence.

Her emotions once again under control, she locked gazes with the woman who had, for however short a time, raised her before turning and striding purposefully toward the door. She paused before she crossed the threshold, though, sparing Tia one last glance.

"You want dem to free you." There was no question implied, as Maris had no doubt. That alarming joy had never left Tia's features, but her fury surfaced again, though her features remained distinctly mortal this time. She glided over to the Captain, not stopping until they were practically touching.

"And den I will 'ave my vengence," Maris suppressed the spike of fear that shot through her. Tia smiled, her hand reaching out to softly stroke Maris' cheek, "de Court will pay de price for what was done to me." Maris fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run up her spine. Inhaling deeply, ignoring the pungent and faintly unpleasant scent of herbs and macabre miscellany that filled the shack, Maris took a step back from her mother, and left her without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Pirates is, unfortunately, not mine. I only own Maris. **

**Well, here is the second part of this little bit of fun. I hope you enjoy! **

**Please Read &Review! Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 2

It was from the deck of Captain Teague's Ship that Maris had watched the Brethren Court release her mother from her mortal bonds, and it was from the deck of the Troubadour that she had watched the Black Pearl—her Pearl, she thought bitterly—surge forward to meet the Flying Dutchman. She had felt the fury and anguish that fueled the Maelstrom deep within her bones, and watched with her heart in her throat as the Pearl and the Dutchman circled endlessly within the grip of the tempest. But she was powerless to do anything.

She probably could have been aboard the Pearl herself, had she been so inclined. But she was too cowardly to face that chapter of her past. So, instead of stepping forward and wheedling her own way onto the Pearl, she had stood back, hidden among the shadows as the Fourth Brethren Court met and decided to try and change their fate in the face of Lord Beckett's threat of annihilation. Obviously Tia Dalma had succeeded in reviving Captain Barbossa, as he stood before the Court, and he had fervently led the argument for freeing her mother; Calypso. The very thought had nearly caused Maris' blood to freeze in her veins. What little affection Tia had ever shown Maris was sure to disappear when Tia did. After all, what use did a heathen goddess have for her part-mortal daughter, especially one that took after her father… the man who had betrayed her.

But it wasn't crossing paths with Barbossa that made her heart pound with anxiety; that dubious honour belonged to one Jack Sparrow. She had been all over the Seven Seas, and had been a pirate, of sorts, for most of her life, but she had never met a man so infuriating yet charming as Captain Jack Sparrow. He drove her mad, yet somehow she had lost her heart to him.

They had met for the first time onboard his father, Captain Teague's, ship, but it was later that their tumultuous relationship developed. He had been young and cocky, and she had been younger, so to speak, and growing jaded as more years slipped past. He halted that for a time. They had had adventures together, searching for one legend or another, seeking treasure and adventure and freedom. Then he had lost the Pearl. She blamed him for losing her hard won ship, though as the years had passed, she came to admit that she had played an equal part as well. He had vowed to get it back for her, no matter what the cost. He knew what that ship meant to her, for it meant the same to him; it was their means to freedom. She had merely brushed him aside, too stricken with grief and rage to bear his presence. That had been so long ago, and she had said so many things she regretted…

Now, watching him from a distance, she wished, deep down, that she had forgiven him then. They had been children together, really, even though she had essentially been a woman grown. He had given her a childhood and an adolescence that she wasn't sure she had truly experienced. That she had blamed him so thoroughly still hurt, manifesting as a terrible ache deep in her chest as she had watched him swagger amid the Pirates gathered around the Brethren's Table.

But even though in her heart she knew she could forgive him (and honestly already had), she still couldn't bring herself to confront him. She still had too many issues of her own that she had to work out; like the true identity of her mother, for instance. No one currently alive knew for a fact that Tia Dalma was her birth mother, or even who Tia Dalma truly was, save Captain Barbossa, at least, until she had been freed. Not even Captain Teague, who had become almost a father to her during her time on his ship (regardless of the fact that she was technically older than he was) and a trusted friend since, knew of her parentage. Even though she grew to trust him implicitly, she never revealed her heritage to him, though in more recent years she began to suspect he knew something. Then again, she suspected he wasn't entirely mortal himself, sometimes.

So it was that she watched the seas churn and roil, pulling the two infamous ships deeper into its terrible embrace. The anxiety and fear she was fighting was a feeling shared by every pirate that lingered on the sidelines of the battle. It was not a feeling she bore well. As it stood, she was destined to loose something no matter the outcome of this battle.

It had been a shocking twist of fate that Lord Cutler Beckett's single-minded determination to rid the seas of pirates for his, and the East India Trading Company's, benefit had forced her to square off against Davy Jones himself. It had been a fearsome chase, and then a deadly fight, for no matter her skill on the sea, she had not been able to out run the Dutchman; the Green Swift was not the Pearl by any means. It was then that she had come face to face with the legendary captain. She had seen enough in her life that the sight of the Dutchman rising from below the waves hadn't stuck quite the same fear into her heart as it did most of her crew. There was little that truly surprised her anymore. It was more apprehension that she felt, rather than terror. Meeting Davy Jones in the flesh, however, had surprised her. It took two good shots to cripple her ship; one that shattered the rudder, the other felling her main mast, leaving them a sitting duck. From there the Dutchman had raked them, killing most of her crew before they were ultimately boarded. She had barely managed to avoid being killed herself, though she was by no means unscathed.

It was then that she first saw Jones. The intent had been to take a few prisoners and to eradicate the rest. After a brief fight, she had been lined up along with her surviving crew to be questioned. He surveyed them himself, his tentacled beard lazily curling and coiling. Then he came to her. Her crew had named her Captain, which she rightly was, so she had been held slightly apart from the rest, between two of Jones' fish-faced knaves. As he turned his blue eyes to her, she met his gaze without hesitation, and it shocked him. Seeing his own eyes staring out of his prisoner's face had to be a shock. It just had to be. It certainly was for her. He froze in front of her, his tentacled beard twitching anxiously. After a brief moment of confusion, he regained his composure, though there was still a tremour in his voice when he spoke.

"You're the one named as Captain?" Maris had only nodded, not trusting her own voice. Jones stared at her, thinking deeply. He took a lumbering step forward, then another, waving off his two men, who let go of her arms. Jones then hauled her to her feet, their faces only inches apart as he examined her features.

"You're hers?"

"Aye." She knew exactly whom he meant and why he had asked. It hadn't taken too long after the revelations about her mother to piece together who her father was, especially now that she had seen him in the flesh. Her mother had made no secret of the fact that Maris' father had betrayed her before Maris was born, and there were old, nearly forgotten stories and legends circulating that named Davy Jones as the one who had revealed the secret to entrapping Calypso. However, she had never known for certain until that day, when she met him face to face.

Those were the only words he had ever spoken to her. Abruptly, he had jerked back, turning to his shark-headed crewmember.

"We're done here," he snapped out, gesturing sharply to his remaining crew. He leveled a cutting glare at the shark-man when he started to question what Jones meant, but when Jones melted away into the woodwork of her ruined ship, his meaning was made abundantly clear. With all manner of snarls and growls and grunts, Jones' crew took their leave as well, descending into the water or melting away themselves to return to the ghastly ship that lingered off the Swift's port bow.

She had never seen him again after that, not in person. It was an odd feeling. She hadn't known what to expect if she ever actually met him, but the reality still seemed lacking, almost. His eyes haunted her. The pain in them still, even after cutting out his heart to spare himself of feeling, when he realized who she must be was almost too much to bear. And within that pain, she discerned a very real truth; he still loved her mother. The mention of her, and realizing just who she was, brought out a softness in those eyes that seemed at odds with his appearance and reputation. But the betrayal in them! The pain warred with betrayal, nearly drowning out the wonder that had surfaced in those sea-blue depths. It had shaken her so that she trembled like a leaf once the Dutchman had disappeared beneath the waves.

Even now, watching the Dutchman in pursuit of her ship through that Maelstrom, she couldn't help the feeling of dread growing in the pit of her stomach. Only one ship could emerge from this, and though she desperately wanted the Pearl to be that ship, a part of her wanted the Dutchman to survive as well, for though she had encountered him only once, Jones' blood ran through her veins, and he had spared her and her remaining crew for that reason.

After all, once it had fallen under Beckett's shadow, the Dutchman left no one alive when it was set upon its target; save Maris' ship.

So it was that when the Pearl emerged from the maelstrom and the Dutchman foundered, Maris was the only one who felt like weeping. It was a mixture of relief and grief alike. Her ship, and hopefully aboard it, Jack, had survived. But the Dutchman was gone.

And then it wasn't. Her heart leapt back into her throat as the Dutchman broke the surface of the water, the spray released into the air cascading back into the sea in brilliant showers of white. But there was something different about her, and deep in her heart, Maris knew why.

He was gone; perhaps even reunited with her mother, who had finally been released back to the sea that embodied her nature. So even as the Pearl and the Dutchman teamed up to annihilate the Endeavour and with it Beckett, ending the Lord's reign of tyranny, Maris found that she could not cheer with the rest of her Pirate brethren.

She could only look up to the clearing sky, breathing deep of the salty air as tears began to stream down her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Pirates is, sadly, not mine. I only own Maris. **

**Well, here is part three of my Pirates baby. For the moment it is the last post, but I may write some more in the future. I hope you the few of you who have read this have enjoyed! **

**Please Read &Review! Let me know what you think! **

**P.S., bonus points and virtual cookies for anyone who knows what the title means. **

Chapter 3

So it was that the ultimate confrontation happened on a pier in Tortuga in the pouring rain. Maris was furious and upset, and she was pretty sure Jack was too, though it was hard to tell with him sometimes. He was acting his usual swaggering self, not uttering a single serious word from the moment their eyes met after all those years. 'You haven't aged a day, love,' he all but bellowed, a sly smile on his face. His seeming indifference to the long awaited reunion rubbed her the wrong way. And thus had commenced an uncomfortable dance where first he chased her when she turned on her heel and stalked away, reversed when she chased him after they encountered two of his many past paramours and so on until they found themselves on the pier before the Pearl, engaged in a row that they had both likely been dreading since they last parted ways.

"It's not like you were completely honest with me, love. Why should I be honest with you? " Maris nearly gaped like a codfish, until she realized what he was referring to as he continued "You really haven't aged a day since I last saw you, what, almost twenty years ago? And then I find out you've been around longer than me dad? That's something you kept from me, Maris, after swearing you'd told it all."

"Yes, okay? Yes. It was the one secret I kept from you. But it's not exactly something I like admitting to myself, either, Jack." Confusion flashed across his features for a moment before he smiled, gesturing widely. There was a trace of anger in his eyes and his normally mellifluous voice was coarse, betraying how he really felt at that moment.

"Enlighten me, then." Maris was getting so worked up by this point that she felt like she had just run a mile, her breath coming hard and fast. Her head was starting to throb, and before she could stop herself, the words began pouring out of her mouth, the accent she inherited from her mother growing stronger the longer she spoke.

"I 'ave not 'ad it easy, Jack. My mother all but abandoned me when I was very young. 'Er fury at my father was too strong, and I favoured 'im far more than I ever favoured 'er. I remember the anger and the pain flashing in 'er eyes when she looked at me. And even when dat anger eventually faded, I could always sense 'er watching me when I visited. And I couldn't 'elp but visit. I don't know why I tortured myself; I suppose it was because she was all I 'ad. But she was always watching, waiting, sure that I was going to betray her too. After all, I was too much like my father already. It infuriated 'er, I think, seeing 'is features, 'is eyes stamped on my face. 'E betrayed 'er before my birth, and she never let me forget it. What little childhood I 'ad was spent making my way from port to port, begging my way onto ships, using every scrap of strength and stubbornness and talent I had to earn my way onto the sea. Learning to sail, learning to fight, using my instincts to brave seas no one else would.

"It's in my blood, Jack; the sea. I 'ave never been more at peace than when aboard a ship flying across de waves; the feel of de spray on my skin more precious to me than any jewel or treasure you could dream of. I got it from dem! Dey were the sea, Jack, my parents. My father? I 'eard you knew 'im, that you 'ad a deal wid 'im," her expression darkened ever so slightly, "and now, your friend, William Turner, is Captain of my father's ship! The new Lord of the Sea." A faint sense of satisfaction fluttered in her as Jack paled when she uttered those words. He knew now. He understood, but she didn't stop there. Her voice thickened as her pain began to surface through her resentment.

"And you knew my mother, though I don't tink I ever called her dat in person. De only one she ever really loved was my father. De rest of 'er love belonged to de sea. Maybe, on some level she loved me. She even wanted to teach me 'er magics and such once, but she 'ated me more, I tink, especially when I turned 'er down for the world my father loved. I reminded 'er of what she had done, and what 'e 'ad done to her, and what she 'ad lost. And no one can 'old a grudge as a goddess can, Jack. Dere is nothing in dis world more vengeful." It was then that the anger bled from her voice, and a great weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. She had held it in for so long, afraid to admit any of it out loud. Jack, for the first time since she'd found him in that bloody tavern, was serious, sympathy coming to light in his eyes. Maris sighed, feeling a deep exhaustion beginning to creep into her bones.

"So yes, I am de child of two immortals, and thus virtually immortal myself," a small, sad laugh escaped her lips, "and now dey're together again, or at least, dat's what I like to tink. And I'm alone, perhaps destined to live forever, like dey were supposed to. It's not exactly pleasant outliving everyone you become close to" She threw up her arms in a helpless gesture, before the dropped back to her sides. She had exaggerated a little. Since the battle within her mother's maelstrom, she had noticed changes in herself, signs of aging that she had never encountered before. It was enough to cause her to wonder if she was finally mortal, and no longer cursed with agelessness. Jack just stood there, watching her, his dark eyes unreadable. She was sopping wet, now, her dark hair and her clothes clinging to her. She also realized then that she was practically sobbing, her tears mixing with the rain that was still pouring down on them. She thought absently that she must look a fright, but really she was too tired to care. There was still so much that she wanted to say.

Jack beat her to it, though he didn't seem able to quite meet her gaze.

"Consider me enlightened, then," he looked up, his dark eyes meeting her ocean-hued ones, a half-smile coming to his lips, "but for the record, you didn't need to hide it from me, eh." Maris couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Jack paused for a moment at the expression, obviously conceding after a moment. "Okay, maybe you had good reason." They stood in silence for a moment. Maris found her eyes wandering from Jack's steady gaze up to the Pearl. She hadn't been this close to it in—she sighed heavily. Jack followed her gaze, looking to the ship that had both brought them together and torn them apart.

"I have to wonder…had your Daddy-dearest known what the Pearl meant to you, would he have tried so hard to sink it…" Maris scoffed.

"To be honest, I don't tink he even knew of my existence, Jack. Not until he ran me down on Beckett's order." Jack looked over to her in alarm and disbelief.

"How are you not dead?" A small, unintentional smile came to her face at the expression on his, and the way his voice jumped an octave when he was startled; that had always made her laugh.

"Daddy-dearest, darling."

"Ah," as if that explained everything. Jack smiled widely at the change in tone. It wasn't long, though, before Maris' smile faded, her blue-eyes drawn again to the Pearl.

"It was as much my fault as yours that we lost her. I was arrogant, and fool-hardy. I t'ought dat all my experience, my years, my connection to de sea, made me invincible. De Pearl was my first real ship, and I loved her; I still do. Stealing 'er was de greatest trill of my life," a genuine smile lit her face, the memory of those years past drowning out her remorse for a brief, bright moment. She turned back to Jack, "and watching you taunt dat Little East India Company Agent—Beckett," she hesitated for a moment, making a connection that she hadn't before. Her briefly uplifted mood dimmed, then. "When 'e got 'is 'ands on you, I—"

"I know, love. That's why you came back to get me." He reached out, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder, genuine care in his smile. Her own hand rose of its own accords, gripping the fabric of his coat. There was a brand there, beneath the fabric, she couldn't help but remember. He smirked then drawing her attention away from less than pleasant memories, "it was a pretty good escape plan, if I do say so meself." A look of semi-serious outrage came to Maris' face.

"You got me shot! I wouldn't count dat as good." At least he had the grace to look embarrassed as he sobered. Then a look of guilt began to suffuse his features. It was an unnatural look, in Maris' eyes, for it was too serious and too deep. It didn't suit his spirit at all.

"No. I suppose it wasn't, especially when—" he practically choked on the name of their beloved ship. Even after all these years, and having the Pearl moored not ten feet from them, the mere memory of her going down in flames that day cut deep for both of them. Maris nearly broke down again.

"I'm sorry, Jack, for everything. It was as much my fault as yours, losing our ship," he looked to her, stunned at her outburst, "I started it all, stealing 'er from Beckett dat way, embarrassing 'im. 'E came after us because of dat de first time. Nothing that followed would've 'appened if it hadn't been for my pride and my irresponsibility. 'E chased us because of me. 'E sunk the Pearl because I was stupid. I made too many mistakes," he tried to stop her there, to interrupt, but she didn't give him the opportunity, "Please, Jack, let me get dis out. I 'ave to make tings right. Everyting you did, taking command, trying to get us away from 'im, abandoning de Pearl, you kept tings from turning out even worse. I couldn't see dat, not den. I was too proud and angry and 'urt. I blamed you for everyting, even though it was my fault."

One of Jack's many guilty expressions flitted across his face. "Not entirely," Maris frowned when he hesitated, ready to interrupt, but Jack continued before she could, "I may have, while maneuvering and conspiring to take the Pearl, deceived, tricked and or humiliated Beckett, making things rather more personal between us than you realize." Maris could only stare at him in bewilderment. "When you fell in love with the Pearl, before we took it together, I did try to take it by meself, and—well, lets just say it didn't quite work." Maris' eyes widened at the admission, memory of the many confusing things Jack had said to Beckett when they had finally taken the Pearl coming to the forefront of her mind.

"So dat's what you meant when you implied 'e 'ad—and de cuttlefish—de hat ting— " Maris was on the verge of laughing, the pressure that had been building in her chest easing. Jack grinned widely, his eyes glinting with mirth. Around them, the deluge was beginning to ease.

"Precisely, love." That time she did burst out laughing, and what tension remained between them began to melt away. After a moment her laughter quieted, and she sobered a bit.

"Why did you never tell me?" Jack smiled at the question, a tender expression she hadn't seen in an age resting upon his features. His hand shifted from where it still rested on her shoulder, coming to rest on her neck, where his thumb began to trace along her jawline.

"I almost did. I don't know why I didn't. Perhaps it was me pride." She didn't doubt that. Jack was nothing if not proud, in his own unique and often peculiar way, of course. Maris ran her hand up his arm, letting it come to rest on his chest.

"I missed you, Jack. Tings felt wrong wit-out you."

"'Course they did." As it always did, his indomitable cockiness surfaced. This time, though, it brought a smile to her face. It was familiar, and it was very much Jack Sparrow.

More than that, it felt right.

Sighing, she leaned into him, and he obliged her, his other arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders, his fingers entangling themselves in her dark, wet hair. From within their embrace, she couldn't help but raise her eyes to the Pearl again. It had been so long…

"Do you want to go aboard?" She tore her eyes away, looking up to him. A surge of excitement welled within Maris. She all but leapt away from him, her feet barely touching the ground as she practically flew aboard. She froze as she reached the top of the gangway, pausing for a moment to try and calm her racing heart. She had dreamed of this moment for so long. She took a step forward.

The instant her boot met the deck she felt like she had come home. Tears once again came unbidden to her eyes as she made her way across the deck toward the main mast, though there was no sorrow in them anymore. She heard Jack scoff gently behind her.

"You should know that I cannot abide a weepy wench. Positively dreadful, it is." She laughed through her tears, more out of joy than anything else. She turned back to Jack.

"You really did get 'er back." The pirate captain sauntered on deck in his familiar flailing way, gesturing widely at the empty deck of their ship before turning back to face her.

"I did." She raised a wry eyebrow, teasing him without words the way she used to, with only her expressions.

"Do I even want to 'ear 'ow?" A slightly terrified look passed over his face before that wide ridiculous smile took its place.

"Of course. It's a marvelous tale; full of bargains, curses, treasure and gold, mutiny, mermaids and a goat, Krakens and mean-tempered, fishy-faced miscreants, salty wenches distressing damsels and even an unintentional respite in the Locker. May even have been a miraculous escape or two. Fantastic story, I cross me heart. It's—"

"Unbelievable?" Maris bit back a smile. His many exploits were already becoming legend, so really, she had already heard a great deal of his story, but she didn't care in the slightest. She was excited to hear it all from his own lips; every crazy, astonishing, heartbreaking far-fetched, wonderful detail. He caught on instantly, falling into their old banter as though the years had melted away. A mock expression of hurt came to his face, his hand resting on his chest as if to say 'me? Unbelievable?' The wide smile returned to his face and he made a greatly exaggerated, sweeping bow, whisking his hat from his head.

"You may laugh at me, you may doubt me, but you may never keep me down for long. After all, who am I?" Maris laughed, her sea-blue eyes sparkling with joy and delight before leaping forward, throwing her arms around him. She landed a brief kiss on his lips before answering.

"Why, you're Captain Jack Sparrow."


End file.
